


Mother's hands to quiet me

by risinggreatness



Series: Circle 'round the sun [67]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Gen, Non-Graphic Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-20
Updated: 2014-12-20
Packaged: 2018-03-02 11:06:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2810006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/risinggreatness/pseuds/risinggreatness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Babies are a joy, but also a painful reminder of what they lack (not EU compliant)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mother's hands to quiet me

Though she spent some time with younglings, years ago as a padawan, they were older, practically padawans themselves. Ahsoka finds shaping the training of Pres intimidating. Jiro has as little experience with the youngest Jedi as her. As best they remember, Yoda was the only one to instruct and watch over the newest additions to the Temple.

( _Luke shakes his head and laughs, “too old.”_ )

But Pres is of an age, and as much as Leia wants to teach her son everything she knows, he must understand the Force beyond his mother.

And if Ahsoka is too lenient with him, so be it.

“I’m gonna haf sis’ers,” Pres lisps on their way back to the apartment, trying to run ahead of Ahsoka while still holding onto her arm.

“Or a brother,” Ahsoka reminds him.

Leia is certain of another pregnancy. “It’s like with Pres, only I feel worse,” she said the night before. Han looked as though he will not let her out of his sight this time.

“Sis’ers!” he insists again; Ahsoka shakes her head. No use getting him to see other possibilities. When Pres gets an idea in his head, it tends to stick. Too much like a Skywalker.

They find the apartment still empty when they arrive. Luke and Set off on a mission; Mara – well, wherever she’s gotten to.

Pres settles down on the sofa next to Ahsoka and listens to her tell stories from Kiros, but the second his parents arrive through the door, he’s off like lightspeed, tackling into Leia.

“Woah kid, give your mom some space,” says Han, prying Pres off and picking him up.

Both Han and Leia look dazed.

Though their presence raises no alarm in Ahsoka, their faces cause her to still ask with concern, “Everything all right? Found out if it’s a boy or girl?”

Leia sits down and puts a hand to her forehead, “Girls.”

Ahsoka didn’t hear her clearly, “I’m sorry?”

“Twins. This family’s got more than their share of them now,” says Han halfway between a smirk and something nearing distress.

“Sis’ers!” exclaims Pres.

\----------

There’s a degree of pride when it comes to choosing names for their children. Leia remained an Organa when they married and there is no question all their children will bear Organa or Antilles family names.

Still. They’re Solos and Han is proud of it, lest the history of the New Republic forget he fought and bled in the war against the Empire. Lateness of commitment to the cause notwithstanding.

And then there’s letting Pres have his say.

“Breha and Samara. What do you think?” Leia asks, running her hand through their son’s hair as he intently stares at her.

“Mara. Like Aunt Mara.”

Han laughs in spite of himself. Leia and Luke are still cautious about who knows the tangled Skywalker tree, but this is too much of a coincidence.

“Maybe you could call her Sam? So we don’t get confused,” Leia suggests.

Pres nods enthusiastically. “Sam and Bee. Bee and Sam.”

Han sees Leia’s spine visibly stiffen. She says nothing.

Pres goes to bed without a fuss. Han has no idea where their son gets it from. He imagines Leia was hellfire as a child as she is now, and he knows he was probably a huge pain in the ass.

Door closed behind them, he has to ask, “What was that about?”

Leia shakes her head, brushing back tears. Han still doesn’t understand, but pulls her close.

Letting an exhale out into his chest, she mutters, “My mother used to call my father ‘B’.” A long pause and then, “Some days it’s just uncanny how he finds a way to remind me.”

Han chuckles softly, “He’s _your_ son.”

Leia laughs weakly back, “Yours too, Captain.” Then patting her belly, “These girls too.”

“Yeah, maybe they’ll be as nerf-headed as dear old dad here. Solos like to get in trouble.”

Leia’s smile truly reaches her eyes and she raises a coy eyebrow.

“Why do you think I’m still ‘Organa’?”

\----------

Mara raps her knuckles on the dashboard, worrying what comes next. Only fools don’t admit when they’re afraid.

The Bothans insist on full bio-scans of all those present at the summit ( _“Even you, Jedi.”_ ) and when Mara’s come up as unusual, they call foul play. She is ready to fight them, Jedi or not, when the med droid intervenes, clarifying her results.

Her read is only as unusual as any pregnant person’s results are.

The Bothans are apologetic and Mara has the satisfaction of a haughty glare any time one of them glances at her, but inside, her heart pounds and her mind races.

Whenever the subject of children is broached, both she and Luke find some excuse to say ‘later.’ It’s an answer she’s been comfortable with; Luke is more than happy to dote on Pres and the girls, and then return them to Leia and Han.

Later is now though – and she finds she might finally be ready. How else would she explain the contentment that slowly filled her after the droid told her?

Though she is only acquainting herself with the reality she will be a mother, she made a promise to this unknown child years ago: she will not repeat her parents’ failings, no matter what.

No, her wringing now is over how to tell Luke.

Their lives must be upended and rearranged. No more daring missions for her. ( _She’s lying to herself if she says she won’t miss them._ ) Though Set is Luke’s first proper padawan, he oversees a steadily growing number of students as they all learn together. Mara selfishly envisions he’ll give some of them up as well.

Telling Luke when they reunite on Florrum doesn’t seem like the best way to announce it, but it’s better than over a holo or waiting until they return to Coruscant – it’s too long to wait and he’ll ( _annoyingly_ ) know something isn’t the same.

Landing _Jade’s Fire_ on Florrum becomes complicated when she finds the talks Luke was meant to have with the system’s current pirate gang turned into half a shootout.

Mara’s lip curls up as her lightsaber snaps on, ready to deflect shots.

“Did you start another fight?” she teases.

Even in danger, Luke still manages to roll his eyes at her, “You were coming. I had to make it interesting for you.”

A weequay takes aim; Luke won’t be able to dodge in time, Mara sees it plain as day.

It’s too late to stop herself when she realizes what she’s doing. Instinctively, she throws herself towards him knocking him behind a stack of crates, crashing and rolling with him.

Though she feels unbruised, she still finds herself running her hands over her stomach and lower back, muttering “shit shit shit” as they crouch in cover. Blaster shots ring louder and closer; Luke, lightsaber still drawn, throws it up to knock the fire back towards their assailants.

“What’s going on?!” Luke yells over the din.

It isn’t what Mara envisioned telling him would be like, not in the least bit, but she has to admit it is so very _them_. A story for the baby when they’re old enough.

“I’m pregnant!” she yells back.

She should be afraid, she should be terrified: not only are they in immediate danger, she did just about the stupidest thing, tackling her husband to the ground. Instead she finds herself laughing and smiling, even tears prick at her eyes.

She can’t remember being this happy.

Luke takes longer to catch up with what she’s said. When the realization registers on his face, Mara doesn’t have enough time to make out every nuance, for he’s practically flown to her, kissing her, winding her again.

Her head would feel delightfully light, but for the oncoming pirates.

“Typical. I need to take charge” she thinks to herself. She breaks away, and grabs him by the wrist, dashing back to the ship.

Weequay pirate talks will wait until another day.

Safe in the cockpit of _Jade’s Fire_ , with the ship locked in on home coordinates, Mara abandons the controls and spins the pilot’s seat around. Luke leans in the doorway, looking at her like he never has before.

If her face wasn’t already flushed from running, it would go as red as her hair. She stands and walks towards him; he catches her hips in his hands.

“You alright?” he asks, voice thick.

“I think so,” she reassures him.

This baby is made of tougher stuff, but they won’t let anything happen.

\----------

Mara used to sleep curled up, as if she needed all her limbs packed closely together. Though she already began to unfurl, the baby only hastens the change in her sleeping habits.

Luke wakes up most mornings with his left hand asleep under the weight of Mara. Some days being pinned under her is enough to convince him to simply fall back asleep, still exhausted from the night before.

They lay there in the dark, wondering what the future holds. Luke has no doubt Mara will exceed the failings she of her parents.

As for his parents, well…

Luke understands Leia about as well as he understands himself. He knows the places the mind can slip to. Pres, Breha, and Sam are still far too young.

“We won’t let her,” Mara determinedly swears to the dark room, to him.

To their daughter.

**Author's Note:**

> See author bio for discussion on this 'verse.


End file.
